08/22 — I'm going to miss Hofstra University.

This week the Jets practiced for the final time in front of a crowd at Hofstra and it was a little sad. Not that any championships were won on those fields, but the turf was fertilized by Jet sweat.

I've spent this training camp watching the practices leaning against the fence and talking with the fans, and it reminds me of the first time I came to Hofstra for a Jets camp. I was 11. My dad had a war buddy who lived in Long Island who he wanted to reunite with, and of course the family tagged along from Indiana. I remember dad pointing out the players and naming them for me.

"That's Mark Gastineau", he said, "the dancing guy."

"Over there, Wesley Walker," he said. "He can only see out of one eye, but he's the best receiver in the NFL".

I was soaking it all in. My elementary schools colors were green and white and I'd never seen it look so cool.

Then I asked him, "Who is throwing the ball?"

"Richard Todd," he said, then after a pause, "He's a meany."

I took my dad for his word, and in my book Todd was not nice and Wesley Walker was the best receiver ever.

I was hooked on the Jets. I loved the green helmets and would read the little I could about Walker. I mean, if this guy could become so great with one eye maybe there's hope for me, I thought.

To be factually correct, I later found out he was actually legally blind in one eye, not missing one as my dad told me. I always wondered why he didn't wear an eye patch. Still, he was my favorite player. I had traded away Todd Christensen and Roy Green Topps cards to get the Wesley Walker. (My sister drove a hard bargain.)

Each week we'd watch the NFL games together on Sunday and once we even got to see the Jets on TV. The following year, Indianapolis got a team and I HAD to root for my home-state team. But if not for the Irsays' midnight move, I'd have grown up a Jets fan.

The impact that attending one scrimmage had on me was immeasurable and I can only imagine what its like for youngsters these days. I saw that same look of elation in the faces of kids a few weeks ago when Brett Favre strolled out on the field for the first time.

Boy, do these fans deserve something to smile about. They were busting at the seams to cheer something ... anything. A short passing drill brought out cheers with every completion, and even though Fireman Ed wasn't anywhere to be found, the chant of "J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets" was loud and clear.

Yeah, I'm sure the players just look at this as a field they'll be waving goodbye to, but for the fans it has a place in their hearts. At Hofstra, the Jets were undefeated and always gave fans their money's worth.

As we wrapped up some 45 minutes after the final open practice, I waved Kerry Rhodes over to some fans waiting by the fence. As always, he graciously signed autographs and took pictures even though his meeting was in five minutes.

A little guy by the name of Peter was there with an overjoyed grin from ear to ear watching Kerry sign his piece of paper, almost in speechless disbelief one of the Jets heroes was right in front of him. It reminded me of how I felt when I saw Wesley Walker haul in a pass some 25 years ago.